Bugsy
Director: Barry Levinson. Cast: Warren Beatty, Annette Bening, Harvey Keitel, Ben Kingsley, Joe
Mantegna, Wendy Phillips, Bebe Neuwirth, Elliott Gould, Richard Sarafian, Bill Graham. Screenplay: James
Toback.
Bugsy is as luxuriant, entertaining, but ultimately hollow a venture as the Las Vegas casino
resorts envisioned by Bugsy Siegel himself. Director Barry Levinson, producer-star Warren Beatty, and a
talented crew of colleagues bring consider panache to a gangster-land biography that lacks only a reason
for being. We learn a fair amount about the details of Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel's life—including his
dislike for the nickname that now defines his legend—but a great big question the film does not address
is, "So what?"
If Dick Tracy was Beatty's chance to poke fun at his own pop-cultural association with cops and
robbers, Bugsy is a less tongue-in-cheek, though still gamefully droll chance for Beatty to don
again the sharp duds of the '30s and '40s and show us what Clyde Barrow might have become with better
connections and a few more years. Ben Siegel is from the get-go a more exuberant figure than Clyde was,
and James Toback's original script introduces him via a quick hit-job on a man who has stolen from Bugsy
and his cohorts, including Ben Kingsley's Meyer Lansky.
"I bought you a present," Ben tells the clearly (and appropriately) unnerved object of his visit; when
the giftbox opens to reveal several fine shirts and neckties, Bugsy explains, "I thought you might want
the shirt off my back. You want the shirt off my back?" The man doesn't live much longer, and no one in
his office makes a muscle to stop Mr. Siegel as he fires his gun and exits the building in full view of
all their work stations.
Bugsy already has a rooster's swagger and an unapologetic hedonism as the picture begins, but as the
story moves forward, we come to understand that his pride and carelessness may have less to do with any
remarkable personal attributes than with one of two conciliating circumstances. One is that he doesn't
happen to have drawn the ire of Meyer, or Charles Luciano, or any of the pals who, it seems more and
more, could dispose of him fairly easily if they were so inclined. To some extent, then, Bugsy
is a sort of waiting-game in which Beatty's character indulges his tastes and follows his whims until
the inevitable friction with his mob associates; only then is his mettle as a "pro" truly tested.
His gentlemanly mettle, however, is put to a severe challenge much earlier on, a confrontation of which
the stakes should not be underestimated. While visiting his actor friend George (Joe Mantegna) on a
movie set, Ben makes the acquaintance of Virginia Hill (Annette Bening), a character whose credentials
or experience in Hollywood are never fully elaborated but whose history of sexual liaisons within the
mob is quite explicitly stated. In addition to her romantic history, though "romantic" is not a term
that seems to apply much to Virginia, her intelligence, loyalty, and demand for mutual respect are also
prominent character traits from her first meeting with Bugsy, when he obviously believes his comely
charm will easily impress her. "Dialogue's cheap in Hollywood, Ben," she tells him. "Why don't you go
outside and jerk yourself a soda."
Toback frequently passes Bening these juicy lines, but much remains frustratingly vague about Virginia
Hill nonetheless. What does happen to her Hollywood career after she eventually falls for Ben, and why
does she to begin with? Virginia comes across both in the script and in Bening's committed performance
as a woman of fierce independence, but Bugsy eventually says little about her except in relation
to Ben and his projects. Bening is onscreen a great deal, certainly more than any other performer
besides Beatty, but, disappointingly after her lively introductory scenes, she increasingly represents
Ben Siegel's lover more than she does an autonomous personality.
The shortcomings of her characterization are all the more obvious because, among all of Bugsy's
plotlines and supporting players, she has the greatest potential to add a distinctive flavor to the
film, which never differentiates itself particularly well from the countless other entries in the
gangster film genre. Seemingly aware that their material has no center, no cornerstone, Levinson and
cameraman Allen Daviau attempt to use movie-making itself as the visual and thematic metaphor to anchor
and justify their rather moorless project. Early in the picture, Ben makes a private screen-test that
he carefully prevents anyone else from seeing. Whether to test his own charisma, or try to gain access
to the Hollywood scene, we are never quite sure why Ben filmed the test which, when we do see it, shows
him far more rigid and self-conscious than he ever is in life.
The general inference we draw is that Bugsy always saw himself as a star, and by courting an actress, by
purchasing extravagant homes and amenities, and by mounting the $4.5 million Flamingo Hotel project that
ultimately ruins him, the character betrays an ongoing need to demonstrate his "star quality," his
self-perception as someone to be watched. Daviau takes that screen-test as the visual
inspiration for the whole picture's photography, and shot after shot of Bugsy and his interactions swirl
in the kind of silvery, smoky lambency we traditionally associate with film projecters.
Ben Siegel conducts his entire life, it seems, as a series of "scenes" he intends as grand climaxes, but
as each project backfires—the hotel, the romance with Virginia, a daffy plan to shoot Mussolini—he finds
that he has pushed almost everyone he knows off the stage of his dizzying, directionless one-man show.
It's an interesting idea, and because Daviau—as well as art director Dennis Gassner (The Hudsucker Proxy) and costume designer Albert Wolsky (All That
Jazz), both Oscared for their work here—are all such expert craftsmen, the film achieves and
maintains the zesty momentum and high glamor for which it aspires.
Unfortunately, though many of us can sympathize with Ben Siegel in thinking his life bigger and grander
than it really is—who among us doesn't occasionally think our lives would make for great drama?—his
gradual realization of his own smallishness is not particularly dramatic. Perhaps this is because, even
after Ben can no longer afford to view himself as the conquering hero he would like to be, the film
doesn't give any clues as to how Bugsy does ultimately perceive himself and his achievements. Nor
does any consensus exist among the film's gallery of supporting players as to how Bugsy stands in all
their eyes. Not one person in Bugsy, including Siegel himself, develops a discernible
perspective on who the man is, and as a result, the whole picture waffles between a detached distance
from, an indulgent bemusement with, and a strained heroizing of its subject. None of these attitudes
seem particularly appropriate to this day-dreaming hood, who is not mysterious enough to treat with
determined ambivalence (in the way that, say, Spielberg could afford to treat Oskar Schindler) but too
marginal to make much of a big deal about, or to allegorize into any larger statement about gangsters,
lotharios, even failed entrepreneurs.
Still, Levinson and Toback work with enough style and energy that you shouldn't be sorry for the two and
a quarter hours you spend watching Bugsy play out. In addition to Beatty and Bening, who are
charismatic both individually and as a team, Harvey Keitel has a particularly good time playing Mickey
Cohen, a mobster who robs Ben so capably and audaciously that, rather than have him killed, Ben takes
him on as an advisor. Wendy Phillips also has a few good scenes as Bugsy's jilted wife Esta, who would
accept the idea of a divorce much more readily if her husband had the backbone to verbalize the failure
of their marriage, to put his request into honest, dignifying words.
Bugsy barreled into the 1991 Academy Awards with ten nominations and a Golden Globe victory as
Best Picture under its snazzy belt, only to go 2-for-10 in its categories and miss out on all the
post-Oscar box-office the studio clearly hoped for. Like Ben Siegel and his Flamingo Hotel,
Bugsy might have been a more successful project if its creators and investors had thought longer
and harder about what they were making and whom they intended it to reach. Still, also like the
Flamingo, there's much fun to be had at Bugsy, if elegance, precision, and energy are enough to
satisfy your tastes. Grade: B
- Academy Award Nominations and *Winners:
- Best Picture
- Best Director: Barry Levinson
- Best Actor: Warren Beatty
- Best Supporting Actor: Harvey Keitel
- Best Supporting Actor: Ben Kingsley
- Best Original Screenplay: James Toback
- Best Cinematography: Allen Daviau
- *Best Art Direction: Dennis Gassner and Nancy Haigh
- *Best Costume Design: Albert Wolsky
- Best Original Score: Ennio Morricone
- Golden Globe *Winners:
- *Best Picture (Drama)
- Best Director: Barry Levinson
- Best Actress (Drama): Annette Bening
- Best Actor (Drama): Warren Beatty
- Best Supporting Actor: Harvey Keitel
- Best Supporting Actor: Ben Kingsley
- Best Screenplay: James Toback
- Best Original Score: Ennio Morricone
- Other Awards:
- Los Angeles Film Critics Association—Best Picture; Best Director: Barry Levinson
- National Society of Film Critics—Best Supporting Actor: Harvey Keitel (also cited for Mortal Thoughts
and Thelma & Louise)
- National Board of Review—Best Actor: Warren Beatty